Bullpen Of Broken Dreams
by Red Witch
Summary: Archer, Ray and Cyril reminisce a little about their lives. And Archer is forced to confront a shocking truth about his past. Well maybe not that shocking considering his mother's track record.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters is missing. Again. Just something that came into my little mind on the pasts of some of our favorite agents. Takes place after the events of Sex and Fire, Ostriches and Country Music.**

 **Bullpen of Broken Dreams **

"Okay so…" Archer sighed as he sat down at an empty chair in the bullpen of the office. "The fire on the fire engine was put out. We managed to roll the fire engine down the street and hopefully no one noticed us."

"Where's Ms. Outlaw Country Arsonist?" Ray asked as he sat at another chair drinking a glass of Scotch. There were several bottles of alcohol on that particular desk.

"Pam took her home to keep an eye on her," Cyril groaned. He was sitting at that same desk also drinking. "Lana took off to go be with her daughter. And Ms. Archer ran off saying something about moving to Miami and CIA black sites."

"And I'm guessing Krieger is still draining those stolen credit cards of their cash?" Archer asked as he poured himself a drink.

"As we speak," Ray nodded. "Your mother told us to make sure we put that money in the agency safe when Krieger gets back."

"Most of it I'm guessing," Archer snorted.

"She won't miss a few thousand," Ray waved.

"Not like Krieger isn't probably pocketing a few bucks for his projects," Archer nodded.

"Whatever they are…" Ray groaned. "Which honestly I don't want to know."

"How did this become my life?" Cyril asked aloud. "How did my life get this crazy?"

"Just lucky I guess," Archer quipped.

"This is not the career I wanted," Cyril moaned. "When I was a kid I wanted to be a lawyer! One of the happiest days of my life is when I passed the bar. I was able to gloat in the old man's face. Proved to him that I could be someone and not be a failure all my life…"

"Keep the dream alive Cyril," Archer snorted.

Cyril went on. "I thought I would be a great attorney. End up working in a respectable firm. Maybe even a judge someday?"

"Now it's more likely that you will end up **in front** of a judge someday," Ray quipped.

"So what happened?" Archer asked.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is for a new lawyer to get a job in this city if you don't have the right connections?" Cyril sighed. "I ended up as a defense attorney and burned out while defending criminals. Who…in hindsight…Were mostly **not** as dangerous as the people I work with **now."**

"You're not wrong," Archer shrugged as he took a drink.

"The real breaking point was when my client who was charged with arson and shooting his previous lawyer…Tried to set me on fire," Cyril groaned. "During the trial."

"So you didn't get burned out as much as nearly getting **burned up** ," Ray remarked.

"And wasn't exactly the first time that happened," Cyril groaned. "I kept telling my clients to keep their calm and **not** threaten the judge while on the stand! But did they listen to me? No! How is it my fault they lost if they practically confess during the trial?"

"Well that's just stupidity on their part," Archer admitted. "The whole reason you have a lawyer is to tell you what to do and say during a trial. Not your fault they couldn't stick to the script."

"Exactly!" Cyril said. "That's why I became an accountant instead! Thought my life would be saner! And **safer**! Yeah! **That** worked out well! NOT!"

"In hindsight that does seem like you took a wrong turn," Ray said.

Cyril took another drink. " **You think**? I was supposed to be prosecuting criminals! Not **becoming** one!"

"My life hasn't exactly gone the way I thought it would either," Ray admitted. "My career as a minister crashed and burned when I came out of the closet. The dream of being a famous Olympic gold medalist in the Men's Giant Slalom turned to dust when I got the bronze instead."

"That's not a thing anyway Ray," Archer scoffed as he took a drink. "Seriously what did you _think_ was going to happen even if you did win?"

"I don't know. I thought at the very least I'd have an in as a sportscaster or something," Ray shrugged.

"That's one way to get into a men's locker room," Archer snorted.

"Ass…" Ray grumbled. "After the Olympics I just couldn't go home for obvious reasons. So I tried to find a new career. I tried to make my mark as a dancer but that didn't work out."

"What happened?" Cyril asked.

"Do you remember the Canadian singer Cindy Sunshine?" Ray asked.

"Yeah, I remember her," Archer said. "Had this really catchy song about having sex under a rainbow or something. She was a one hit wonder then disappeared after having a mental breakdown on stage and tried to kill a backup dancer."

"Uh huh," Ray groaned as he took a drink.

"I remember that too," Cyril said. "Didn't they have to use a tranquilizer gun on her?"

"Yeah they had to shoot her fifteen times before she went down," Archer snorted.

"Fourteen," Ray admitted with a groan. "The fifteenth one went in my ass!"

"Wait a minute…" Archer did a double take.

"No!" Cyril gasped. "You mean **you** were the backup dancer….?"

"Yeah. She didn't exactly take it well when she learned that I had an affair with her choreographer who she had a crush on," Ray groaned. "Even though it was so obvious he wasn't interested in her!"

" **You're** the reason Cindy Sunshine went nuts?" Archer asked.

"Not entirely," Ray admitted. "I mean she was popping pills like they were M&M's. Her mother stole her money and was sleeping with her manager. Her dad was in jail for running over her last boyfriend. And she was kind of in huge debt because she was spending money she didn't have. But yeah that was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. And my career…Only lasted a month."

"Oh my god," Cyril was stunned.

"I know. The worst part is that choreographer was lousy in bed," Ray groaned. "Seriously, you would think a guy who knows how to dance would know what to do…"

"So what did you do?" Cyril asked.

"Whatever I could to get by," Ray said. "I admit I did some things…and people I'm not proud of. Including a brief but disastrous affair with the Ed Wood of gay porn. He even talked me into being in one of his films. Thank god I wore a mask so no one would recognize me…"

"Did you have a large part?" Cyril asked innocently. Archer did a double take.

Ray paused for a moment. "Depends on your point of view. Technically it was a non-speaking role but…"

"I withdraw the question," Cyril groaned.

"That was another weird time in my life," Ray shrugged. "I basically lived hand to mouth for almost two years. Once I took a bartending job at a party and I ended up living at the place for almost three weeks. Would have been longer but his wife came back from her trip early. Bitch."

"Geezy Pete…" Cyril whistled.

"Still that was one kick ass party," Ray shrugged.

"So you're saying being a spy is the most stable job you've ever had?" Cyril asked.

"Frightening isn't it?" Ray groaned as he took a drink.

"Oh boo, hoo, hoo…" Archer grumbled as he took a drink. "You guys are not the only ones who's had shattered dreams! I wanted to a world champion internationally known lacrosse superstar!"

"There's no such thing," Ray said.

"Yes there is!" Archer snapped. "I was going to be the most famous lacrosse player in the world!"

"Again… **Not** a thing," Ray said.

"Unless of course you killed like five or six people during a game," Cyril said. "Which odds are that might have happened to you."

"It is so **a thing**!" Archer barked. "I had a scholarship and everything! But I had to give that up! My dreams were shattered when I was shot in the stomach by a deranged lacrosse fan stalker!"

"That can so **not** be a thing," Cyril added.

"I have the damn scar to prove it Cyril!" Archer snapped. "Well I did for a while until my skin healed. It's a good thing I'm a fast healer or else I'd have a lot more scars. Anyway my career as a world class lacrosse superstar…"

"So not a thing," Ray rolled his eyes.

"IT IS TOO!" Archer snapped. "As I was saying I had to give that up when I was told because of my injuries I would never be able to professionally play sports again! So I had to go to my fallback career of being an international super spy!"

"Being a spy was your _fallback career?"_ Cyril raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Archer said. "In case the lacrosse thing didn't work out. Which it didn't."

"Because of your injury," Ray raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Archer said testily. "I could never be physically able to play lacrosse again so I had to become a spy."

"So you can't play lacrosse…" Ray held up a finger. "But you can be a **spy?** A job where you have to be _physically active…"_

"I know that's a difficult concept for you Ray seeing how you get paralyzed all the time but yes," Archer snapped.

Cyril blinked. "So you're telling us that you can run around…"

"Both literally and figuratively," Ray quipped.

"And fight terrorists and criminals and space pirates," Cyril went on. "A job where you are basically on call twenty four seven. But you **can't** play a sport with a little ball for what? Sixty minutes? Including halftime?"

"Technically seventy minutes including halftime," Archer shrugged. "Because halftime is ten minutes. And then there's always a few minutes for judge's rulings give or take."

"I see…" Cyril said as he gave Ray a look.

"Obviously I can still play! Just not at the level I need to!" Archer snapped.

"But you can fight at a level where you can take down oh, I'm just thinking this off the top of my head…" Cyril began. "The Air Force at Area 51?"

"Pirates," Ray added. "Space pirates."

"The Irish Mob," Cyril added.

"The Russian Mob," Ray added.

"The regular Mob," Cyril went on.

"Double agents," Ray added.

"Cyborgs…" Cyril added.

"The Yakuza," Ray added.

"Crazy drug dealing biker gangs," Cyril added. "And other drug dealing gangs."

"Terrorists," Ray added. "Assassins."

"Cuban hit squads," Cyril added.

"Other kinds of hit squads," Ray added.

"Other spies," Cyril added.

"The KGB," Ray added.

"What are you idiots getting at?" Archer snapped.

"Don't you think that being a spy is way more physically active than…" Cyril began. "Practically almost **everything else**?"

"Short of joining the Marines," Ray added.

"Well the Marines yes obviously," Cyril added. "Those guys come on. But other than that…"

"And other members of the armed forces," Ray said.

"Well that's a given," Cyril said. "But other than that…"

"And then there are those contortionist acrobats in a circus…" Ray went on.

"Well that's a stretch," Cyril said. "But yeah…"

"Oh come on guys! I know for a fact I could never play lacrosse on a professional level because the doctor told me so!" Archer barked.

"Really?" Ray raised an eyebrow. " **Which** doctor?"

"Not an actual witch doctor!" Archer scoffed. "A **real doctor**! A specialist Mother found who told me that I could never, ever play professional lacrosse!"

"A _specialist?"_ Ray gave Archer a look. "Your **Mother** found?"

"Yes," Archer nodded. "Okay maybe he could have technically been a witch doctor. I mean he was white but there are such things as druids. I mean I know there aren't that many but I'm pretty sure a druid can join the medical profession. Don't see how that conflicts with his religion."

"Oh boy…" Ray winced.

"But I don't think he was a druid," Archer thought. "Looked Jewish actually."

"Okay Archer I'm gonna just take a stab at this," Cyril sighed. "I'm guessing your mother was never exactly supportive of your dreams of being a lacrosse star was she?"

"Well now that you mention it she wasn't exactly thrilled about it," Archer shrugged. "We used to have fights about it all the time."

"Uh huh," Ray and Cyril said at the same time.

"Now that I think about it I really didn't even take her suggestions that I would be a spy like her seriously until after my shooting," Archer said. "My mother would give me all these James Bond books while I was laid up. They were pretty awesome."

"Should we just tell him?" Cyril sighed.

"Not yet," Ray said as he took a drink. "Give him a minute."

"I admit becoming a spy did take the sting out of…" Then Archer stopped. "Wait a minute…"

"He's at the forty yard line…" Ray said.

"Something's not right here…" Archer blinked.

"The thirty," Ray said.

"It's pretty odd that Mother found a doctor specializing in lacrosse sports in Baltimore," Archer blinked.

"The twenty…" Ray went on.

"Especially since the sport only really picked up in Baltimore recently," Archer blinked.

"The ten…" Ray said.

"Everyone knows the biggest following at the time was in New York," Archer thought.

"The nine," Ray said.

"And what did Mother say? Every door closed a window something…?" Archer looked very confused.

"The eight," Ray said.

"And I do remember hearing that he got a brand new car not even a day after he told me the news," Archer thought. "Those nurses were real gossips."

"The five…" Ray said.

Realization hit Archer hard. "OH MY GOD! MOTHER BRIBED THE DOCTOR!"

"Touchdown!" Ray mockingly put up his hands.

"Oh my God! So all this time I could have…?" Archer gasped. "I'll bet that doctor wasn't even a professional lacrosse doctor! He could have been the janitor for all I knew!"

"Knowing your mother I wouldn't be surprised," Cyril sighed.

"And I remember the weekend I got home she took me to a spy movie in the theater," Archer realized. "In fact she took me to see a different spy movie almost every night for a week!"

"Wow…" Ray blinked.

"Except for one night she took me to a play," Archer frowned. "About a spy…"

"Again…Wow," Ray groaned.

"That conniving…manipulative…" Archer got out his phone. He got up and started to dial. "Mother! Mother! You better not send this to voice mail! You have a lot to answer for! MOTHER!" He stormed off to scream at his mother in private.

"How did that idiot _survive_ all these years?" Cyril groaned as he took a drink.

Ray shook his head. "Forget _him._ How did **we** **survive** all these years?"


End file.
